The Casting Vote: with Calliope Torres
by wherethewildthings
Summary: Calliope Torres a semi-successful political TV show host has become complacent with her standing and has given up on using her voice in conjunction with real progress. After having a break through on live television she is thrust back into the political limelight and drama is bound to ensue.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! I got inspired to write this after re-watching the Newsroom. Just want to say that this fic (?) is heavily inspired by it but I'll be throwing in some issues/changing some stories. Not sure how long this will run or if it will make it past this chapter but I'm curious to know what you guys think. I just want to say that some of the views and ideas may not be similar to everyone's and I don't mean to mock if your's happen too. These are the thoughts of the character and what the chracter thinks. Also political commentary is a hard to delve into, if I get anything wrong, my apologies in advanced.

* * *

Calliope blinked away wisps of dark black hair that spilled into her line of vision. Here she was again seated between two idiots shouting political malarkey. She was watching the clock on the wall, waiting for her segment to end so she could bolt from the studio, go back to her high-rise and cuddle up with a glass of wine. People around her insisted she drink haughty wines but she couldn't concede to becoming one of those pretentious wine drinkers. Every time anyone tried to sell her alcohol and started going on about the body and age she ended up grabbing a large jar of Carlos Rossi for ten bucks at Walgreens and going to town.

She hated that fancy way of living, she supposed she never got accustomed to it. She was not rich by any means, but she had enough to vacation once in a while and live comfortably. There was something however that she loathed more than putting on the ritz - her job. Calliope hosted a cable news show, Calling it with Callie, where she discussed international and domestic issues, but she didn't get to choose the stories covered. She didn't even get to have an opinion nor any say. When she spoke, someone else's words came out of her mouth and although she had once upon a time tried to fight it, she had long given up. Settled, for comfortable living.

Calliope shifted in her seat and adjusted the collar of the suit she wore. It was charcoal, pin-striped and fit her body like a glove. Under it, she wore a dark brown silk blouse, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a bit of cleavage but not enough to send the network executives in a frenzy. She had done this before, mostly it was encouraged to help bolster her own ratings which were failing. She'd never let on, but it made her smile every time she'd see them dip lower and lower. She'd lose her job sure, but those smug bastards would lose their diversity quota in one swoop.

She had foregone powdering telling make-up that they had a tendency to make her either look like a ghost or a coke head. She wished this time she had allowed them to freshen her up a bit more, she was roasting under the studios lights and could feel small clusters of sweat forming on her forehead.

She looked over at Ted Barnes the host of the show practically foaming at the mouth. Ted fancied himself a liberal but came under fire recently because of a gambling addiction which he strongly denied. She could see him in a casino though - a real high roller. Girls half his age hanging off his arms, veneers gleaming, that curled up smile he gives when he believes that he is winning, which for him was all the time. His features appeared to be lower than most other peoples, she wasn't sure if it was because of failed plastic surgery or the fact that he was going bald.

His sparring partner was a conservative, blonde, older but not old enough to turn away young males who could be lured into things with a quick smile and the flash of a well tanned and toned leg. To the conservatives, specifically the tea party, Agnes was a trail blazer. She knew two things in this world, that God was real and that liberals hated America. Aggie is what the media had taken to call her. Calliope wasn't surprised by Agnes's rise to fame, she was an any means necessary type of girl. What shocked Calliope was that she managed to get to where her opinion was valued above others after she was caught on tape several times condemning minorities. Callie remembered the day the story broke, she said it was not her intention to offend anyone and that her views had since changed - but she never apologized.

"Agnes you and I we can go round for round on this thing but Ms. Torres I'm very curious to hear where you stand." Ted finished, that crooked smile back out to play. He supposed her statements would be a nail in Aggie's coffin. Too bad she had no fucking clue what they were just talking about.

"You've been rather quiet. That's unusual for you." Agnes chimed in, her voice fading into what Calliope detected as mild sarcasm.

That fucking bitch.

Calliope cleared her throat. "Well Agnes, you know the old saying...keep your mouth closed and be thought a fool, rather than open your mouth and remove all doubt."

Ted chuckled. Agnes squirmed.

She was insulted.

Good.

"Well we've never really heard you come out one way or the other Calliope, I think right now would be a perfect time to let us know what party you identify with." Agnes said, a shit eating grin soon following. "Come on darlin', no more straddling the fence - "

"I hate to put you on the spot Calliope, but I am just a bit curious myself, some of your commentary makes you a real mystery." Ted added. "So are you a Republican or a Democrat?"

Calliope opened her mouth to speak but was immediately cut off by Agnes.

"It's clear based on her realization of the American dream that she would have to be with the party of the people Ted. She is a female, Latina who has graduated from an ivy league school and has her own television show - not to mention she's openly gay - "

"Bi-sexual." Calliope corrected. "And proudly so." Calliope was nearing her boiling point.

"Whatever stamp you'd liked to slap on it sweetheart."  
Agnes paused to shoot her a wink and Calliope, as a means to restrain herself, tapped the arm of her chair. It helped to reduce the growing tension in her shoulders. She only had a few moments left, she just had to remain calm.

"Republicans and the Tea Party believe in the great American dream. That dream is the economics of inclusion, enabling everyone to have a chance of their own to invest, build, and prosper. These are the rights that have been granted - "

Calliope chuckled slightly and shook her head. This woman was ridiculous and normally she could contain herself but this time, this time she felt something wash over her and she could not hold it in any longer, she was practically bursting at the seams. It was anger. True, Agnes was about to get the brunt of frustration that had been being welled up inside her for nearly three years but honestly, the bitch kind of deserved it.

"Something funny Ms. Torres?" Agnes asked, her lips pursed shortly after speaking. She was not pleased with the interruption and frankly Callie did not really give a shit.

"You are not granted rights..." Calliope looked away, partly to give her eyes some rest from the blinding studio lights, the other so the camera couldn't capture the flash of annoyance within them. "...you're born with them."

"Fair enough but despite all those things..."

"Despite them? Agnes with all due respect you say it as if I'm handi-capped by them - could it be that maybe I am? Is that why I am such a show of the American Dream? Because I have succeeded despite myself?"

"You're putting words in my mouth - it was not my intention..."

"I have had it with you people and your intentions." Calliope stated firmly, the jaded tone in her voice evident. "Things are bad. Things are really bad." Calliope said her eyes cutting across the studio at the clock. Just a few more minutes damnit. Just a few more rounds of the clock.

"Care to elaborate?" Ted said his full attention on Calliope.

Calliope smiled. Smiled was a little bit of a stretch, the thing on her face resembled a smile. It was the one she had on at parties, events and round tables like this. She had been smiling for the last three years of her fucking life, even when she was hurting. If you looked closely at it, you'd find it but only if you were looking closely. If you weren't, well you might mistake her for a fully functional happy human being. The truth is, she was a borderline alcoholic, with mild depression and a chronic addiction to falling in love with people who destroyed her. So she would continue to grin and bear it but now, now she was just pissed. Pissed at Ted for skimping on quality hair plugs, pissed at Agnes for being so well-intentionedly stupid and she was pissed at herself for not shutting the fuck up and living comfortably.

"You see when the Democrats and Republicans look at me they see a demographic. Fair. I have in this life become increasingly familiar with being just another notch on a gallop poll. It's fine."

She could stop now. If she stopped now, she could admit to herself that what she was about to do wasn't premeditated. That she wasn't intentionally sabotaging herself. That this and the words that followed, were acts of passion and she could sleep tonight regret free.

"The issue is that both parties don't see anyone beyond that. To both the left and the right, I am those specific three things. Latina. Bi. Female. And because I am all of those things you assume things about me and cater to certain ideals that your experts have whipped up as if we are not individuals. Which is simply not true, there is more to me than that and I think that a lot of people would be quite surprised to find that the American people are not as comfortable with being lumped up into small groups and skinned down in order to have a stance on an issue or identify with a certain party."

Too late, far too late. Might as well make it count.

"The more and more we perpetuate this need to divide, the more and more our politics and our people will polarize and that polarization is the reason why we cannot get anything done here in America. Nothing is being accomplished other than running this same debate on loops on each and every one of our channels. Both parties are guilty of this. Both parties need to wake up and realize that they are causing the problem and offering the solution. You can't do that - you simply cannot. That's like poisoning someone and selling them the remedy."

Calliope sat back in her seat and sighed. To those watching, it may have seemed as if it stemmed from regret but to her it felt so much like relief.

"Continuing down this path is problematic..." Calliope paused and looked over at Agnes whose mouth had gone slack.

"...both parties are nothing more than sports teams now. This has nothing to do with ideology. Politics isn't about ideology. It's about joining a team, picking a side and routing them on. The entire time we pick each other a part, calling missteps on one another so we can say yes our side is right, yes our side is winning, instead of trying to evaluate new political information in an unbiased way."

Calliope had forgotten about the clock, and so had the producer. Just when she thought the segment was going to be abruptly finished, they continued rolling. Ted gripped his ear piece, his eyes trained on the sheets of paper in front of him but never once interrupting her.

"Both sides have corporate backing, spilling untold amounts of money into Super Pacs. Money shoved in their pockets and by the time they even win the candidacy they have been bought and sold two times over and are unrecognizable when the very people who worked to get them elected call them to action on the platforms they have run on. They are so busy scratching the backs of corporations and wealthy billionaires who seek to inject their own beliefs into the political sphere, that people are swept under the rug and forgotten."

Calliope drummed her knuckles along the table looking to either to interject. Maybe it was shock that kept them silent, maybe they weren't expecting her to speak so bluntly. Maybe they didn't understand because she wasn't smiling anymore.

"So now you have the corporations on one end and then on the other you have political pandering. You have real life government officials, congressman, senators wiping away their own beliefs for the beliefs of those who can get them re-elected. Their moral compass is a pendulum, swinging back and forth and can change..." Calliope snapped her finger to signal the brevity. "...daily."

Calliope rubbed the bridge of her nose briefly. "You have one group that can single handedly jump in and hijack a party and not only succeed - they can get away with it. Instead of holding true our leaders bend, and now, now they are obliged to them. They are bound to condemn people, bound to set legislation based on religious beliefs, bound to discriminate and bound to dated and archaic ideals."

Calliope never yelled, her tone was cool despite the blood boiling in her skin. "And all the while the real issues are being ignored." Callie held up a finger for each issue, trying to drive her point home as the others in the studio and the viewers at home watched. "Income tax revision, minimum wage, public pensions, immigration. No resolution matters as long as my guy is saying the things I want to hear. But words don't resolve the issue - something has to be done, not when we find a resolution, now. We need bipartisanship to make a return in the United States."

Calliope sighed again, her shoulders slacked just a bit. "We are still having debates on whether climate change is real. How is this even a question anymore? They are bargaining with one another about minimum wage reform and some 46.7 million Americans are below the poverty line. Not to mention the growing wealth gap which is crippling the economy. The investment returns are exceeding economic growth, the rich get richer, inequality increases. This is financialization. These things need to be acted on not talked about."

Calliope kept looking for someone to chime in, when she looked at the scrolling monitors around the studio she saw why they had kept shooting. The news had made the news - go figure.

"What side am I on? What side is there to choose from that makes sens. On one end, I have the GOP, with all due respect, a party littered with insurgents who are hellbent on opposing everything because if your views differ from theirs you are un-American. So they obstruct, obstruct, obstruct. They break laws yet the people that oppose them are un-American? Why, because we don't have a copy of the constitution printed onto cheap screened t-shirts? Ridiculous."

The last line she spoke made Agnes clear her throat.

"What has happened to the GOP? The party with a heart and a head?"Calliope wondered out loud.  
"We are proud of and shall continue our far-reaching and sound advances in matters of basic human needs. This includes expansion of social security, broadened coverage in unemployment insurance, improved housing - and better health protection for all our people. We are determined that our government remain warmly responsive to the urgent social and economic problems of our people."

Brown eyes flicked to Agnes. "That's the Republican party platform of 1956 - that's your boy. Today, they want to privatize and means test Social Security, cut unemployment, and cut Medicaid as well as privatize Medicare. President Eisenhower would be considered un-American? Eisenhower a socialist? It is absolutely stunning to me how anyone cannot see how far to the right the GOP has shifted. So much that neo-nazi rhetoric is creeping into the base."

Agnes shook her head rapidly. "That is simply untrue!"

Calliope continued despite the interruption. "Hatred has its teeth in that party and it is sinking deeper and deeper. The Tea party hates everything, it hates welfare, food stamps - especially minorities who partake in social aide. They are obsessed and severely misinformed about Muslims and Islam. They are terrified and alarmed by brown and other because they think we are a threat to "white nationalism". Let me be perfectly clear this is not about freedom - this is about a group of misguided people who get their information from radio disk jockeys who are extremely jaded and prejudiced."

Ted adjusted his tie, trying to keep his composure despite the current tension Calliope's words created.

"These same 'voices' use the trust of the American people to scare them into believing that the gays and the brown's and the beige's are coming to take everything they own when this is simply not the case. Those fear mongerers thrive profit wise and we have to deal with the brunt of it mucking up our system and slowing down progress. These are the people who are un-American. The people who would rather see it burn than to see someone else try to take a slice of the American pie."

Her eyes landed back on the monitor. She was a trending topic. She'd be flattered if she knew what the hell that actually meant.

"And it's not just the right who has issues. The Democratic party is always leading from behind. Late to the party on LGBTQIA issues and marriage equality. None of them are truly embracing health care reform even though it has shown to be of great potential. Running scared on gun reform. I wish - I dream of the day a radical group from the left swoops in and tells Democrats we will primary you - we will find a replacement for you who is not afraid to say that drones have damaging and counterproductive repercussions."

Calliope kept her composure, Ted after her latest remarks turned an impressive shade of red. She avoided his eyes and chose to look directly into the camera.

"Too afraid to say that US drone strike policies cause considerable and under-accounted-for harm to the daily lives of ordinary civilians, beyond death and physical injury. That decriminalization of marijuana is necessary. The disproportionate number of Black and Latino youth arrested for possessing small quantities of marijuana is evidence of a shameful double standard in this justice system and should be wholly examined and openly discussed. The US of A..."

She paused once and looked down momentarily. When she looked up her eyes were a bit glassy, she was hoping they gave off the idea that it hurt her to see her country this way, which it did, but she did have more than a few drinks before showing up to participate. Maybe it finally kicking in.

"...we used to be a thoughtful, intelligent, cautious nation. Over the last ten years, we've become an impetuous, reactionary, anti-intellectual one. American exceptionalism is simply hubris. We are being out produced, and we are so politically polarized that we are now voting against our own interests. We are trying to solve the issues of nations abroad instead of focusing on ourselves and the issues we must address internally before looking outward. We are capable of so much but so much time is wasted while our beloved country and her people with all this vast untapped potential go to ruin. We can be exceptional again, but it is going to take years and years of getting our heads surgically removed from our asses."

Calliope shifted towards Ted, who was completely speechless. She was expecting some type of follow up question, none ever came.

"So, when you ask me where I stand politically, the answer Ted..." Out of respect, Calliope nodded slightly to Agnes. "...Agnes. The answer is neither. Because neither really gets things done anymore."

After she finished the room was hushed, save for the shuffling of feet and a telephone ringing furiously far away in the studio. Calliope looked up at the clock again. Time. Time had been up. For this program. For her. For easy living. For smiling. She had thrust herself back into the ring, there was some rust but damn...she felt good.

"And umm - yeah. Uh Agnes it was great to see you again. You as well Calliope." His smile, that winning one, it didn't make an appearance. "Looks like we are out of time, but I'll finish up some additional thoughts on my blog. Now it's time for Freedom of Speech with Kelly Matthews."

All three sat frozen until the producer gave them the signal they were off air. Ted stood, his face an even deeper shade of red. He angrily eyed Calliope. "I hope it was worth it." He never spoke to her or Agnes again, he simply stormed off set.

Agnes shook her head. "You Ms. Torres are un-American!" She huffed, tossed her stringy blonde hair over her shoulder then sped off, a group of assistants following closely behind.

Slowly others began to leave but Calliope sat still and motionless. She was startled when an over weight cameraman began to slow clap, looking for the few stragglers that stayed behind to join in.

No one did.

When his attempt failed the cameraman slowly began to walk backwards, his palms out and facing upwards, until he was out of sight. Calliope buried her face in her palms.

The lights on that side of the set began to shut off systematically leaving only the portion where she sat lit. She checked the phone she had in her pocket.  
35 missed calls.

She slowly stood then walked briskly to the exit and reached the exit door. She twisted the knob to exit.

Then she smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

Calliope sat on her couch in her robe, her legs kicked up and crossed over the length of her couch. This was her natural habitat. It wasn't always so but she found as she grew older the only companion she needed was a nice bottle of wine, an assortment of chocolate, sushi and music. Normally her record player would be spinning while she sat and watched the TV on mute, this time she decided to actually watch the damn thing.

The guy in the electronics department insisted she have the largest flat screen TV du' jour but having the newest technology never really appealed to her. Nevertheless he was extremely persuasive, so he spent 2 hours hooking it up and handed her a manual as thick as a bible and left. This wasn't her area of expertise normally _she _would take care of these types of things. That was a long time ago, a very long time ago. She could always feel _her_ creeping in somewhere. Three years later and she found herself still getting over - not getting over her - over her.

Done.

At least that's what her shrink said.

She wasn't about to get into that tonight, she had much more important matters to attend to. She flicked it onto KQRZ one of the most conservative new stations she had ever seen. The level of bias was unheard of and by the end of each television show, they had a retraction list a mile long. She raised the volume, which was the most she could accomplish with this contraption, and leaned forward pouring another glass of wine.

_"I mean who does this woman think she is?! She is exactly what we warn you people to watch out for! Agnes is absolutely on the money when she said in her interviews today that Calliope Torres is un-American. But hey, you know me folks I'll take it a step further. Calliope Torres is a communist!"_

Calliope chuckled into her glass of wine. The man on the screen calling her Stalin was none other than Riley Ellis, a pill popping, greasy, misogynist who like most of his constituents hated everything that was inclusive about America.

_ "I mean she hi-jacks someone's show and uses it to what, gain ratings for her own show? Uses it as a platform for her Marxist beliefs?! She says she's proudly bi does she? You know what that sounds like to me - an agenda!"  
_  
Calliope turned her glass upwards again continuing to watch and never once letting the TV detour her from her drink.

"_The gay agenda has a new face, don't be surprised if she exploits those queers like she exploited Ted on his very own show today. She's a disrespectful hack!"_

While draining the glass of wine, she shot the TV the bird.

She placed the glass down with a soft clink on her coffee table and switched channels. There was Agnes again droning on and on about her being against the American way.

"Cunt." Calliope whispered before hoisting herself up from the sofa. The wine was in full affect now, her heading swimming mildly. She had been drinking on and off through the week, her own show Calling it with Callie, was not slated to air again until Tuesday night. She had been laying low the entirety of the weekend, sending her doorman out for wine and ordering in for dinner.

_"Calliope Torres, like myself when I had a debacle of my own, should be held accountable and made to apologize to the American people. Why is it that conservatives are always burned at the stake yet liberals are never called on their anti-American propaganda?!"_

"Never change Agnes, never change." Calliope said shuffling to her bedroom and carefully removing a dark oak box from under her bed. She plopped down and unclasped the hinges then removed her rolling papers and what the kids were calling a 'nick'. She wasn't huge on pot but she did smoke some from time to time, it helped her clear her head. After rolling a medium sized joint and licking it slightly to seal, she went back to her living room and turned off her television.

She had enough of people telling her she was a shit person.

She already knew.

She drifted over to her record played and started it up, checking the volume before lifting and lowering the needle. Soon her living room was filled with the warm cooing of Florence Welch's voice.

The music now set, Calliope poured another glass of wine and opened her glass patio doors. She lit her joint and took two quick puffs, holding it in momentarily before letting it dispel slowly from her lungs. She closed her eyes and let the calming effects of cannabis whisk away her worries.

Oh' if Aggie could see her now.

Callie opened her eyes once more to the city and for a moment could see why she stayed here. She was ready to slap a for sell sign on the place, too many bad memories...too much _her_. She decided against it however, this _was _their home and now it was hers.

The city, from this vantage point appeared to be lit from the inside out. The dark blanket of night embroidered with flecks of soft light illuminating the city. It made her glad she kept her home, especially on nights like this.

After hitting the joint a few more times, she gently smudged it out and went back inside shutting the patio door behind her. She grabbed her phone and started going through the messages left. Most of them were from Ronnie her show's executive producer going through the five stages of grief via voice-mail.

There was denial.

"Callie its Ronnie. I know things are looking pretty bad but let me tell you something we can bounce back from this kid. We just need you to get in contact with us and I'm sure we can ride this out - this will blow over I promise you."

Next, anger.

"Callie pick up you phone! Do you hear me! You can't just hide after losing your shit on national television! You made me and the network look like idiots! I bent over backwards for you Callie and you give me this in return! Well let me tell you something, you had better make a decision about what you want to do going forward, alright? Stop this hiding bullshit. It's time to shit or get off the can Callie!"

Bargaining.

"Callie please pick up the phone, please for me your pal Ronnie. Look, I know things are bad right now but I'm really looking out for you here. So just please let me know you're okay and give me a call. It's my fault. I should have given you more freedom, I should have let you express yourself but my hands were tied. I'm sorry Callie and I'll do whatever you want I swear. Just pick up."

Depression.

"C-c-allie. Callliieee. Remember the first day we hired you. Gosh. I should have known then, I should have known you would be trouble. I've had a few drinks tonight but I've been thinking. I'm single - you're single, let's mingle. Amiright?"

She grimaced and for the sake of their professional relationship, she'd delete it later.

The last message - acceptance.

"Callie its Ronnie and I know things are difficult right now okay. We got a boat load of shit to clear up. You need your time - fine. Just be sure to come into the office on Monday morning. Lance is dropping by and he means business. Take care."

Lance was CEO of Stallingworth entertainment which her network and show was housed under. That made her nervous but not terrified. She was honestly expecting the worst. She deleted all of the messages and turned her phone off, she could deal with that come Monday. She flopped back down on her couch and dug under her coffee table for an item she had 'forgotten' to throw away. She slipped the photo from its hiding place and held it up staring at the blonde in the picture next to her.

Calliope didn't know why she had fell for her. She was by all means a nerd, clumsy and awkward. Underneath however was an intelligent, energetic, confident woman and it didn't hurt that she was absolutely gorgeous. Her smile was dazzling, hypnotic even but it was no match for those cloudy blue midwinter eyes that brightened when she laughed. She could hear her now laughing along at the morons picking her a part on TV now. She could use that now, she could...nope.

Screw that.

She was gone.

Good riddance.

Calliope curled herself deeper into the sofa and after realizing she left her glass on the patio, she decided to drink directly from the jar.

The worries, the doubt. She could deal with that when the time came.

* * *

The Casting Vote-à

* * *

"Ms. Torres how do you feel about the allegations that you are a communist?" One of the reporters asked keeping stride with Calliope and the herd of media that followed her.

"Preposterous." Calliope nonchalantly answered but never once slowed her walk to get inside of the building.

"Agnes is saying you are advocating anti-American spirit - your thoughts?"

The question caused Calliope to stop. She turned to them and removed her shades. "Agnes is - "

Before she could answer two security guards appeared at her side and Ronnie gently tugged her along by her arm. He bull dozed through the press stopping only to occasionally say no comment. Once inside he released her arm.

"Don't you think you've done enough talking lately?" He questioned his tone playful but agitated. "Isn't any of this sinking in? We are in the red Callie. People are saying some really foul shit about you. They are attacking your character, doesn't this sting just a bit?"

Calliope placed her shades back on coolly replying, "It probably would, if I still had the capability of feeling."

"Bullshit. Don't try this smug shit in that meeting Callie. I'm warning you, Lance is pissed."

"Tell him to get in line." Calliope said walking to the elevators and shifting her purse to the crook of her elbow. Ronnie stood beside her, his breathing heavy and loud. Ronnie was a squat man, rotund and balding save for a small patch of hair on the back of his head he slicked into a ponytail. "I was thinking as my final hat trick though, I could give a speech about repealing the second amendment while finger fucking the statue of liberty."

"Knock it off Callie." Ronnie warned.

"What not subtle enough?" Callie questioned as she stepped on to the elevator.

As the doors closed Ronnie sniffed the air slightly. "You been drinking?"

"Define drinking?"

"What does that even mean?"

"There are several ways to drink. One can drink to be buzzed, relaxed...sloshed."

"So which one are you?"

"Buzzed."

"For fucks sake Callie-"

"I'm kidding, I have not been drinking."

"Thank God." Ronnie said sighing in relief.

"I am high though."

"What!?"

"As a fucking kite."

The elevator stopped on the top floor and Callie stepped out glancing behind her to see Ronnie banging his head against the elevator doors. She shook her head and tugged him off the elevator by the arm.

"I'm fine okay. I go in, I keep my mouth shut. I accept what happens and we move on. Besides, you know I perform best when under the influence Ron. Remember when the teleprompter shut down and I finished nearly the entire show without it."

"Uh-no. No, I don't Callie. You were high during that show?"

Calliope looked from left to right suspiciously and briskly began walking away. "Don't want to be late for the meeting." She tossed back at him, avoiding the discussion that would follow.

"Callie wait."

She stopped and turned to him. He walked closer and sighed.

"Callie, whatever happens in there. You know I'm here for you. I haven't pushed when you've asked me too, but we built something here. Let's just keep the boat afloat alright?"

That was the problem though, she wanted to tell him. She didn't want to keep the boat afloat, she wanted to rock it and send it careening under water until all the occupants drowned - including herself.

Despite this, her head nodded in agreement.

It was Ronnie who entered the door first, Callie trailed behind him like a student being brought into the principal's office. Lance was an older man but he was well groomed and in tip top shape. A real silver fox, _she _had called him when Calliope brought her to one of the events he held.

Calliope took a seat and Ronnie slipped into the one beside her.

Lance soon took a seat as well, his eyes squarely on Calliope.

"I just want to start by saying-"

"I think you've said enough." Lance said, instantly silencing Ronnie. "Both of you." He nearly spat in Calliope's direction.

Calliope removed her shades and slipped them into her bag and met Lance's eyes. He wanted her to feel intimidated, she could take being reprimanded but intimidation was something she just didn't personally tolerate nor was affected by.

"Do you know what you have done?" Lance questioned. "Do you understand the repercussions of spewing ideals that directly conflict of that of the network you work for?"

"Was anything I said un-true?" Calliope added looking at Ronnie for support.

She found none.

"I ask the questions here Ms. Torres. Not you. You see you work for me. You would do well to remember that. You went on a public tirade essentially bashing America and concluding with stating America and I quote, "has to get its head out of its ass".

"Well the exact quote was surgically removed I think actually..."

"I don't care! Your actions, your stances they all reflect on my channel and my company. You insulted half of America, not to mention Ted who is saying publicly that you are no longer welcome on his show. People are distancing themselves, distance from you equals distance from me."

"See that's the thing sir. You never hired me to make friends and be jolly - you hired me to report the news and deliver political commentary. The news is ugly sir, very ugly. And it is very sad..." Brown eyes cut back into Lance's. "...but it is very true."

"Let me be very clear here, this is not about right or wrong. I did not call you here to debate current events, you are here because you have royally fucked up and I have been in this office all day going over the pros and cons of firing you. Let me remind you your contract is up Calliope, now I cannot in complete confidence extend it."

She gulped, that wasn't good at all.

"The bottom line is we hired you as an anchor, not for your opinion. We feed you the lines, we feed you the stances we want you to have and you go home. It is very simple Ms. Torres and by now you should understand this."

She shifted slightly in her seat. The cat was finally out the bag, they weren't even pretending like she was a puppet anymore they were telling her.

"There are people who are dying for the exposure, so you should know right now that you are replaceable."

Lance placed both his hands on the table in front of him. "I have decided that we will keep you on board. Why? Because it would reflect horribly on our network if we did not stand beside you but there are three very specific things you must do. The first is that you will state on air that you are not a communist, second apologize to Ted and third you will apologize to the viewers who witnessed that abomination of a speech you gave. Am I understood?"

Calliope looked over at Ronnie who was mumbling. He was either praying or spiraling into insanity. The poor guy. She wasn't as bothered but she had to do what she had to do.

Back to comfortable living.

"Fine." She said trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She would give them fine, but okay? Never. Nothing about this was okay with her. "I'll handle it."

"You'll be handling nothing. You will walk out, you will read what we have provided you and hopefully this mess will die down and we can get back to business as usual. Against my partners advice I have decided to extend your contract. It will be on your desk Tuesday morning. You will sign it and make no mistake about it once the ink dries on that paper, I will own you. And you will do exactly as I say."

"I couldn't agree more sir." Ronnie added.

Way to kiss ass Ron, she wanted to add but decided against it.

Calliope stood and cleared her throat. "Are we done here?"

"Yes. Yes we are." Lance said rising as well and motioning for Ronnie to do the same. "Until then keep a low profile and more importantly - keep your mouth shut."

Calliope walked out immediately, not out of embarrassment but frustration. She slammed the door behind her. Ronnie exited quickly behind her and they both stood in silence while they awaited the elevator.

"You know he's only trying to help right?"

"Right." Calliope answered. She didn't want to talk about it, especially with anyone even remotely related to this company or channel.

Ronnie pat her shoulder lightly. "I'm going to go back in and smooth things over. Things will get better, you'll see."

The soft bing of the elevator signaled its arrival and the doors slowly opened, she stepped inside and turned to face Ronnie.

"You said it was your fault, that I never got a chance to speak. That things were like this. Well it wasn't your fault Ronnie." Calliope stated as she reached for her shirt and placed her shades back on. "It was mine."

Regret flooded the producers face, she imagined it mimicked her own. The door shut leaving him to schmooze with Lance and sending her back down to the exit. She wasn't going to her office, she was getting the fuck out of there.

As the elevator lumbered along her cellphone rang. She looked at the caller ID and smiled. It was Richard Webber one time mentor and president of a very small but burgeoning television station, IDN.

"I take it you've heard the...meet you where? For drinks? Absolutely." She laughed. "You had me at free drinks. I'm on my way now."

* * *

The Casting Vote-à

* * *

Calliope sat at the bar, nursing a sidecar martini. The bar she was drowning her sorrows in was one she often frequented when she was under the tutelage of Richard Webber. She hadn't spoken to him in some time so his call was surprising but welcomed all the same. He was one of the most brilliant men she had ever met, his knowledge and wisdom unmatched by any other person she had ever encountered. He taught her everything there was to know about this world, he had even warned her about the position she was taking. Told her it was not a good fit for her. But what did she do when someone told her to go left? She almost certainly went right.

It was in her nature.

He was once her professor but after stalking him nearly day and night he took her under his wing and showed her a world she had never imagined. Webber showed her the world at its most majestic but also the dark underbelly. The parts the world chose to ignore or forget. He was the father she had always wanted, a guiding light in a dark world she felt there was no escape from.

In short, she'd probably take a bullet for the man.

Their relationship however began to erode when she accepted her role on Calling it with Callie, then it faded. They'd run into one another at events from time to time but it was never the same. He said it was due to scheduling conflicts but she knew he was merely disappointed. She could see it in those sad brown heavy pupils that averted hers.

"So where's your beret?" Calliope heard a familiar voice say from behind her.

She turned and smiled. Richard had a presence about him, one that filled an entire room and drew people to him. She always considered him youthful despite the deep furrowed lines on his face and forehead, they didn't speak of age to her but of adventure. He was a tall man, broad shoulders, rich brown skin and a fashion sense that rivaled many a young bachelor. Richard had absolutely no problems with the ladies in fact, he had played wing man for her once before.

He introduced her to _her_.

"No sickle and hammer? What kind of comrade are you?" Richard smiled broadly and stepped closer spreading his arms as Callie walked into them.

Calliope wrapped herself around him and squeezed patting his right shoulder lightly before holding him at arm's length. "Never took you for the beltway type?"

Richard sighed and ushered them back to the bar until they were seated. He slumped softly as the barkeep refreshed Calliope's glass.

"Don't have to look too far outside the beltway to hear about your little 'speech'." Richard eyed the bar and spotted his beverage of choice. "Scotch and soda please." He asked politely as the two settled into a comfortable silence while he awaited his drink. Once the bartender placed it in front of him he sipped it slowly then lightly smacked the bar with his palm.

"I'm proud of you." Richard said still looking forward. When he got no reply, he turned in Callie's direction. "Really Callie, I am."

Calliope chuckled and sipped from her drink. "Proud of what? The fact that I went on television and made a fool of myself?" Her smile dimmed. Calliope blinked rapidly to keep the tears welling in her eyes from falling.

Richard reached over and placed a hand on top of Calliope's softly. "For telling the truth. That's what I'm proud of you for. For breaking out of that prison you've been captive in for years."

"I made that prison Richard." She scoffed, disgusted with her own actions. "I practically moved in and wallpapered the place."

"Very true. Callie, very few can recognize the prison they are in. Some people spend their entire lives in a cell and think somehow they lived a fulfilling one. You are one of the privileged few who can, that gives you more power. It also gives you even more reason to change your situation. So maybe you can free somebody else as well."

Calliope removed her hand from his. She didn't like the idea of that. The idea that she had a responsibility to anyone else but herself. "Spare me Richard."

"Vintage Callie." Richard said taking a sip from his glass and dabbing at his lips with a green and gold embroidered napkin. "Shirking responsibilities for an easier path."

"You know I came here to have a good time and honestly…." Callie took down the rest of the contents of her glass and motioned for another. "…I feel kind of attacked right now."

Richard chuckled and shook his head. "Funny, I thought a light bulb had went off. An Epiphany."

"Isn't that a Staind song?" Callie interjected.

"More jokes?" Richard knew Callie better than she knew herself. It was a façade. Her way of avoiding conflict, her way of sliding past the issues. "Aren't we a little too old for defense mechanism?"

Calliope's frustration had peaked, her patience down to the hilt with Richard and his sanctimoniousness. "So you call me up after all this time just to tear me down. Like those people on the news who don't even know me. Calling me things I'm not. Putting words in my mouth."

Calliope blinked back tears her emotion seeping into her voice, her grip on her drink tightening.

"Ever since that incident people have been telling me how to feel. Telling me I'm the revolution, telling me I'm a monster…that I don't…I don't…."

Calliope stopped, rhythmically tapping the bar.

Tapping helped.

"...no one's asked me how I feel."

Richard's expression lightened. He was too hard on her. He was always hard on her. Like any good teacher he reserved his harshest discipline for those he expected the most from.

"How do you feel?" He asked. His voice calm and soothing.

"I'm tired Richard." Callie replied exasperatedly. "And I'm fucking terrified."

"Of what?"

"What do you mean of what?" Her sudden outburst cause attention from nearby patrons. She checked her volume. "Of losing my career, of being some fringe hack that starts a pot depository and gives YouTube sermons about the "man"…I'm scared of…"

"Change?" Richard added, focusing on his drink.

Callie fell silent, her mouth opened as if she were poised to speak. She searched her brain for some kind of rebuttal but on the banks of her psyche, she found none.

"There is nothing to fear but fear itself Callie."

"And spiders." She retorted, her comment muffled by the glass raised to her lips.

"There's an opportunity if you're willing to take it Callie. It's small, it's risky, and it pays less than what you do now. It will be harder, it will demand more of you mentally and physically. And there will be a large amount of push-back. People will attack you far worse than they are doing now. Many a powerful player will work tirelessly to end it, you or both."

"You really know how to woo a girl Richard."

"Do you want it straight or not?"

"Too many jokes Richard, not enough time or political correctness."

"Callie."

She hated when he used that tone. That teacher's tone that made you stop in your tracks and give them your undivided attention. "Yes."

"I want you to work for me."

Calliope laughed. "Yeah, OK."

"I'm serious."

"Sure."

"Callie Torres." Richard only said her full name when he wanted her to hear him loud and clear. "I want to give you your chance to be heard. Not stifled. Not constrained. There will be sacrifices sure, privately and publicly. I've been looking for an anchor that can bring an audience and a voice to IDN. I stopped when I saw you on the television that night. And I didn't stop on my own volition. You stirred something in me Callie, you commanded my attention and a lot of other people feel the same as I."

"Richard." She could use her tone as well. "You know I can't. My contract…"

"Contract schmontracts. You want out, get out."

"You've lost it. I can't gamble everything on…I have to re-sign." Calliope's voice suddenly went small. "It's all I've got Richard."

Richard sighed heavily, finishing off his drink and tossing way too much money on the counter to cover their drinks and tip. He smiled wearily. "But why settle for less?"

He stooped slightly and embraced Callie once more before standing and straightening his clothing. "It was nice seeing you Callie. You have my number should you change your mind."

Richard tapped her shoulder lightly and left the lounge.

He never looked back.

Calliope finished off her current drink and noticed the alcohol had finally kicked in.

Awesome.

She hated what Richard had done to her. Her decision was so clear until he came along and muddied the water. But in the end he had done for her what she always wanted him to do.

He made her think.

She eyed the small wad of cash on the bar and locked eyes with the man serving her from behind it.

"How many more of these can I get without shorting your tip?"

* * *

The Casting Vote-à

* * *

"So…have you signed yet?"

"For the billionth time Ronnie, I have not." Calliope said her eyes rolling in frustration. "I'll get to it."

Ronnie sighed and sat on the edge of her desk. He sat quietly for a moment, his eyes fixated on her. "Thinking of not signing?"

"Goddammit Ronnie all through the night all I've heard is you yapping about the papers. Papers this, papers that. You'd think I was in Arizona the numerous times you have asked me about those fucking papers."

"Mhhmm." Ronnie said bringing his index finger up to scratch the side of his chin. "And I wouldn't be on your back about them if they weren't oh' you know say, a very profitable and lucrative contract. The show with your face on it that can be replaced by some schmuck."

Calliope reclined in her seat and closed her eyes, sighing. "I'm the schmuck Ronnie. I'm the pigeon. I'm not the organ grinder – I'm the fucking monkey."

"You've got to stop thinking like that Callie. Alright, fine so your nuts are in a handbag. Big deal! You get to keep doing this thing that you love and I don't get tossed some wet behind the ears moron telling me how to run my show. C'mon we got a good thing going here."

"I know. I know. Can you just…can I have a minute?"

"Take all the time you need." Ronnie mimed her signing the contract and exited her office.

When Ronnie had cleared the room, she stood and paced for a moment the sound of her heels quieted by the padding of her office floor. She stopped and looked around for a moment. It was the office of her dreams. A large corner office with large windows. To her right was a large bookcase stuffed with her favorites from Corruption in American Politics to Lies: And the Lying Liars That Tell them. Up front a large screen swarming with the news, in front of it a medium glass table with seats tucked neatly under for small group discussions and meetings. She even had a shower with towels embroidered with her initials. It was her own little contemporary safe haven. She had worked for this. She had sacrificed enough.

She needed wanted a drink. Something stiff. Something that would put pen in hand and hand on paper.

Slowly Callie made her way back to her desk and sunk into her seat. She picked up a pen, then signed.

She exhaled loudly.

Done.

She gathered up the papers, placed them into the large brown envelope they arrived in and stuffed it under her arm. She had a meeting to get to. She had a show to put on. Her words or not, this was easy. This was right.

She glanced in the mirror and checked her appearance. She was always very shapely and had no intentions of changing or hiding a thing, her fitted navy blue pencil skirt and off-white silk button down saw to that. To finish of her ensemble she put on bright red heels that matched the color on her lips. She looked like a woman who was in charge but the longer she stared at her reflection she knew she was only playing dress up. A child standing in their mothers over-sized shoes begging for adulthood yet not really knowing what comes along with it.

"Fuck." She said loudly pacing again, wanting to smash the damn thing in two. They'd replace it before she got back out of the production run-down anyways. She decided against it, taking a few deep breaths instead. She glanced at her reflection once more then shook her head.

After a moment she strode out of her office, this time there was no carpet to keep the steady rhythm of her pumps at bay. She always secretly enjoyed that sound.

That sound meant a bad bitch was heading your way.

She walked on to her set which immediately went quiet when she entered the room. Faces were there she had never seen, but she knew suits and ominous faces meant the people with money wanted to see what the fuck was going on. Lance was there, his eyes shooting daggers at her. She was glad they came because she was going to make sure they would get exactly what was coming to them.

Callie strode over to them and greeted them with a firm handshake and a broad smile. When she got to Lance, he held her steadfast for a moment and eyed the envelope under her arm.

"I'll take this."

"Wait." Calliope said holding it away from him. "I'll have Ronnie look it over later and deliver it to you in person."

"This is not…" Lance smiled and lowered his voice as to not draw attention. "…this is not a game Ms. Torres. I want those papers by tonight – or you can keep them. Do not forget what we discussed. I own you after tonight."

She ripped her hand from his and smiled back but it was forced to the point that it looked like a grimace. Callie walked over to Ronnie and hugged him tightly, when she pulled back he looked confused. She pat his shoulder lightly and smiled.

Ronnie's face went white. He didn't like that smile. He didn't like how cool she was playing it. "Maybe! Maybe we should reconvene in an hour or so? Right Callie? Maybe we need more time?" Ronnie's eyes locked on hers, pleading.

"I think we've had enough time Ronnie." Lance said walking beside the smaller fellow and pushing him backwards lightly. "We are here today to start a new and most importantly listen to what Callie will be telling the entire world later tonight. Tonight she starts over and so do we."

The smattering of applause that followed made Calliope smile even wider as she took a seat at her desk. She took a moment to look out into the crowd before the teleprompter began to roll.

Ronnie hid his face in his palms, but peeked through the slits of his fingers.

"Good evening and welcome to Calling it with Callie." Calliope said waiting for her next lines to roll. "I know many of you are ready to get back to the news well, so am I. Before I do there is something I must share with you all."

Calliope took a short breath and continued.

"I was recently featured on a talk show where I made some less than unsavory comments about the state of our great nation. I said deplorable things about certain political sects and used my authority to sow seeds of doubt into the minds of the American people. And…"

Calliope placed the envelope in front of her and slowly slid her contract out.

"…I don't regret it. Not one bit. My delivery was blunt but the message stayed true. That message is that Americans needs to be challenged. Americans don't need to be spoon fed predigested ideals. We should have a right to draw our own conclusions after we've been provided the facts from both sides."

Lance fumed from his position, then turned to others in the room to assure them this was not written for Callie.

"We live in a society where politics and news have been cleansed. The real news drowned out and infiltrated by people like…" Calliope sneered at Lance. "…people like Lance who want to shovel one sided arguments or tame sparring matches between those with different beliefs."

Calliope stood from her desk, contract in hand and walked back out front in center before the crew in attendance.

"I thank you all for being a part of this, some more than others." Calliope said looking over to Ronnie who managed to smile.

Calliope stepped back and ripped her contract in half, and kept ripping until bits and pieces lay out before them all on the floor, then spoke. "I was hired here to report the news. Good, bad, eye opening. All of it. Not this sterilized, pasteurized bullshit I've been reading off that screen for far too long. I want to love what I do again and I want people to hear and see the world around them again, not the one fabricated to suit their viewing pleasure."

With that Calliope walked towards Ronnie and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"We had a good run didn't we kid?" He said his eyes a bit watery.

"We sure did. I'll miss you Ronnie."

Ronnie laughed loudly. "Yeah right. Give em' hell out there, okay?"

Callie nodded and hugged Ronnie tightly then began walking towards the exit. Before she could leave Lance grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"You are finished. You think you're going to change the world huh'? You walk out that door and you won't have a world. Your name is dirt. I'll blackball you. You'll never work again you ungrateful bitch."

Calliope jerked her arm from him and laughed. "I'll send someone for my things. Oh' and I've been waiting to say this for years. Go fuck yourself Lance."

With that Calliope strode towards the exit, beyond the walls she knew like the back of her hand - the unknown.

She never looked back.


End file.
